Final Fantasy: The War of Tears
by Leo6
Summary: I've had it! I guess the only way to get rid of this weird swelling is to put in on paper. Intro and parts of Chapter one for now so please R&R :). The story is an entirely different universe and chapters soon to follow.
1. Introduction

My worse fears have come true,  
Looking towards the day with sadness.  
But as I look up towards the night sky  
Are yearning memories of your warm embrace  
That melts the ice of my deepest sorrows.

Where was the time that we could only be ourselves,  
Reminiscing; laughter; running through the fields of wildflowers,  
Not a care in the world could bother us.  
As your lips touches mine  
I could only see a picture of us linked by a red strand of fate  
That ties our two worlds together:  
A world that is only you and I.

I believe that the madness will all end  
Where time will flow back, returning that happiness.  
So I shed tears of a love not betrayed,  
But only misunderstood by those who do not wish to open their hearts  
To see that we are meant to be.

Somehow, someday, somewhere…  
We could watch the cerulean skies together  
And dream of a better place for our future:  
A future that I now carry inside me as a reminder of you.

From the collected letters of Princess Amelia of Southern Dynax to Prince Aramus of Northern Dynax, days before "The War of Tears" commenced.


	2. Title

Leo6 Proudly Presents:

Final Fantasy  
"The War of Tears"


	3. Act 1: Chapter 01 The Fire Child

ACT 1: "The Two Monarchies"

The continent of Dynax was perhaps the most influential and powerful of the four other continents and several smaller countries in the world. Even the floating continent of Krum that hovered over a hundred miles from the ground, no other country has ever attempted to wage war against Dynax. Divided almost evenly between the north and the south, these two halves are separated by a vast desert know as the Dune of Dimm Katarn, named after the famous general who fought the Great Battle of Dynax that unified the two kingdoms after centuries of civil unrest. Each ruled by a single monarchy, the two sides had a history of strong economic and diplomatic ties that lasted for over three thousand years.

Northern Dynax is a country years ahead in terms of technological breakthroughs from its Southern cousin, excelling more in sciences, commerce, and industry. Comprised mainly from the rugged terrain of steep mountain paths and jagged rock faces, it was considered as a veritable fortress where its army is considered as its pride and joy. The present ruler of the North is Emperor Kornas the Tenth and his only daughter, Princess Camelia.

Southern Dynax is by far a more mysterious kingdom teeming with forests and wildlife. Magical crafts and alchemy were far more primitive in edgewise for most, but the whole world could never deny the power that they wielded as most of the denizens excelled in sorcery, the arts, and medicine. Their present ruler is known as the Sorceress Rivah.

In terms of industry, technology, commerce, the magical crafts, alchemy and military strength and power, Dynax was a notch above the rest of the world.

It was all history.

Chapter One: The Fire Child

Darkness, silence, and a half sliver of moon were the only things that accompanied this small band of travelers coming from the endmost border towards the south, surrounded by the growth of trees that seem to encase the weary caravan in rickety wagons and pulled by hulking beasts inside a shell. To others it was a welcoming thought that could only mean one thing: a fortnight of peace away from the battlefield. It was a war fought between two monarchies all because of one misunderstanding that left each member of the opposing royal families tainted in a scandal.

The old trail master with a long pointed face carved with wrinkles and grayish sideburns raised his torch that glowed with a shimmering, fluorescent stone on top. Instead of a fire flickering from the top of the wooden stick, a crystal called _lihtarum_ lighted the way towards the darkness facing the east. He thought he heard rustling sounds from the nearby bushes.

"Did you hear that?" the trail master's young companion whispered close to his ear as he searched frantically at the surroundings for the source.

"I wouldn't have bothered raising my torch if I didn't hear anything." The old man shot back in a throaty kind of voice.

"I just couldn't see why we have to take the pass through the Elvar Forest. I've heard stories that there are dangerous beasts around here, not to mention evil spirits."

The older of the two spat forcefully on the ground as he glared at his companion.

"I couldn't care less if we stumbled into a nest of _zepari_ but don't start off with that evil spirits lunacy." The trail master glowered at him, referring to the _zepari_ as a snake indigenous to the mountainous and forest regions of Dynax where their bite only deliver convulsions of temporary paralysis and insanity.

"But they're real them evil spirits, Klorwag." The young man spurted out, looking scandalized. "A cousin of mine last year happens to pass though the forest near the Trystal Caves and saw this strange apparition that almost look like Vizurath's soul reaper."

Klorwag mumbled gibberish to himself, thinking that people born under the ninety days of the goddess Daluria were a bunch that have cold feet all year. Naturally it offended Klorwag to hear someone speak the name of his god Vizurath he was born under.

A sharp gust of warm wind blew upon the caravan, carrying the stifled bickering between Klorwag and his young companion across. Though it reached through several sleeping ears along with their families, it managed to catch the attention of one caravan rider still awake at the dead of night and keeping a lookout from behind.

If it wasn't for the sheer size of his wagon that could hide the other wagons from view from behind even at a distance, it was its owner that caused countless heads to turn his way as well. Though his height remains a little above average than any normal man, the only thing that made him special is the added mass and frame that made him look gargantuan. His darkened and scarred skin and overdeveloped muscles in his arms and legs gave an appearance of forged copper with the strength of steel. The eyes in his oversized head without much neck covered in facial hair and long unruly dark locks are square-like in appearance as he searches the surroundings. He, too, heard a sort of rustling sound apart from the heavy wooden wheels of the cart crushing small stones and twigs. Behind him is the canopy that housed his items and belongings when he picks up the sound of another voice coming from inside. Turning around he sees the familiar face of his wife and their newly born son wrapped in white bundles of cotton and wool, and judging by their appearance it proves that he was not the only one of his kind living in the world.

"Barthos," his wife called from the opening with a voice nearly as deep as a man's, "is there something wrong?"

Barthos continued scanning his surroundings, wondering what that rustling noise is as his cart neared the area where the trail master and his companion first heard. Raising his torch also tipped with _lihtarum_, he watched carefully at the illuminated parts of the shrubbery. So far there was nothing as he returned his sights towards the caravan ahead.

"It was probably nothing, Oregana." Barthos grunted in his deep, almost booming voice. "Probably some small creatures scampering away. You know old Klorwag and his paranoia."

Oregana sat gingerly at the seat next to her husband with the baby cradled in her arms that the combined weight of both husband and wife almost caused the ironwood to creak under the pressure. She placed her free hand over Barthos' massive hairy forearm and chuckled a bit.

"You shouldn't talk to your old mentor that way, Barthos." Oregana's lips curled to a smile. "And besides he must have saved you numerous times when you were a lad yourself even before the war started."

The man kept his expression of calm despite of his fierce-looking visage. Oregana was right, he thought, if it wasn't for Klorwag he wouldn't become who he is right now. It was fate that Klorwag found Barthos as a young lad despite of his appearance. Aside from being a trail master, Klorwag was considered the Northern Kingdom's most prized blacksmith and trained the young Barthos in the craft. Added to the military training that Barthos received before inheriting Klorwag's position, he maintained and honored his master's reputation every time he faces the hot forge as well as the front lines for himself.

"For a crusty old frog pushing one hundred fifty, he still has guts. I just hope he takes it easy on the buresh. I hate it when he starts rambling about his old days, like I haven't heard it over a million times." He began mimicking the voice of his master in his highest voice possible, but it sounded more like a bullfrog imitating a singing canary.

Oregana laughed heartily at Barthos' witty performance, causing the baby to wail from the sudden outburst as she lulled him back to sleep.

"But I do owe him my life. I feel wretched for asking him to lead us away from the southern border in such short notice."

"Now, now. There's a good boy." Oregana whispered to the baby as he slowly simmered down before answering her husband. "I guess he couldn't refuse you, Barthos, being such an adorable and strapping man as you are."

Barthos locked his sights lovingly at his wife and sighed, "Well, Qurash is still three days away. I just hope there wouldn't be any trouble once we're out of the woods." His growling voice softens but kept it as firm as possible and looks straight towards the road. "I've been getting reports about the southern spies from the frontlines. I hate having to engage them if it meant getting you and young Drake here in the crossfire."

After hearing what Barthos just told her, Oregana tightened her hold upon her child as the caravan continued its trip. The caravan arrived at a small clearing where the sky can be seen for the first time what seems to be hours ago. The red moon glowed like a well-rounded ruby over a curtain of black velvet. Though it was now the ninety days of Vizurath, Oregana clasps her hands together and whispered a silent prayer towards the red moon, asking it to send her prayers to her goddess Daluria for protection.

The trek through the Elvar Forest ended within the third day without incident as their eyes were slowly being replaced with the blue expanse and out towards the sunlight. Tiny wisps of clouds streaked across the sky that gave way through the open plains of wild _warah_, a staple grain crop, along with wildflowers that gave an impression of golden fields of grain. Barthos scans the area, watching the flight of birds of prey soaring through the air and almost visible in the day is one of the four moons: the white moon named after the goddess Daluria. Clasping his hands towards it he whispered a prayer of thanks and praise, for protecting his family and those in the caravan. Just beyond the plain is Barodur, and after a day would be Qurash-- Oregana's village as well as Barthos' new home.

"Do you think there would be others like us in Qurash?" Barthos asked as he takes a bite of meat from a bowl.

"I'm afraid not, my dear husband." Oregana's smile turns to a more solemn look. "Like you I thought I was alone in this world, but my foster parents treated me with love and kindness that I never felt alone with them."

"They're human, right?" Barthos asked that his voice nearly stuttered.

Oregana turned to observe her husband and noticed that he was sweating along the sides of his head not because of the heat. She then wrapped her large arm around Barthos' waist and smiled at him.

"I'm sure they will welcome you." Oregana assured. "And they'll even be more happier once they meet their grandchild."

For the first time since the start of the war, Barthos smiled his first genuine smile, as he looks onward towards the horizon. In some ways he could almost imagine his life in Qurash, raising Drake among the other village children, growing old with his wife to one day see his son finding his luck with someone he could spend his life with.

At the distance within the mountain range between two mountain peaks, Barthos noticed a shimmering glow that almost resembled a star. He nudged gently at his wife and pointed his finger towards it.

"It must be a good omen." Oregana smiled as she raised her open palm over her eyes to shield it from the glare.

Despite of what might appear as a shooting star, Barthos felt something tingling in his spine when he watched a flock of geese fly south as if trying to avoid it. His eyebrows furrowed, thinking that he may have picked up his sense of paranoia from Klorwag as he shook it away from his head.

Similar thoughts also entered Klorwag as he shaded his eyes from the sun's rays and peered through the horizon headed towards the Larango Mountains. For over a hundred years in his life he has rarely seen a shooting star that seems to fix itself in one place. Though he could have sworn his paranoia was causing him to hallucinate, he watch the shimmering red dot grow bigger. Something frozen begins climbing up his spine and prayed that his suspicions were wrong as he handed the reins to his young companion.

"You lead the rest of the caravan for now." Klorwag mumbled as he jumps off the cart.

"Where are you going?" The young man shouted as he watched Klorwag getting left behind.

"I'll be on Barthos' cart! Just keep going and pick up the pace!" Klorwag shouted as he walked towards the back of the caravan. Along the way, Klorwag gave out the similar order to the rest of the riders as their carts hitched forward as they snapped on the reins. It was only a short walk since the caravan is in motion until he spots Barthos' huge cart.

"Master!" Barthos waved at the old man and extended his massive hands around Klorwag and lifted him up to his cart.

"Easy with your grip, stupid boy, or I'll swear you'll break me in pieces."

"My apologies, master." Barthos grinned. "Would you care for some of Oregana's stew?"

Klorwag nodded briskly and Oregana hands him a small bowl of dark brown stew and a hunk of crusty warah bread. In between bites of his meal he spoke.

"Have you noticed something strange lately, boy, especially up there towards the Larango Mountains up in Devil's Peak?"

Barthos nodded as he sets his sights towards the mountain range. "I have, yet I couldn't shake this strange feeling that something might happen."

"Probably, but you wouldn't know what those damn fools in the South are scheming. It would be wise if we stray away from the trail and head towards the pass between Qurash and Banesia. I, for one, have lived long enough to fight ten wars in my lifetime and have seen every strange tactic there is."

"Why bother? Besides it will take twice as long to reach Qurash if we go through there. We're all burned out from the war." He turns his eyes worryingly towards Oregana and their son.

"It will be rough, I know." Klorwag softened a bit as he averted a gaze at Barthos' family. "But I'm sure they won't do anything stupid once we enter the pass. It's sacred ground as everyone knows it." Reaching behind his trousers made of animal hide he takes a gourd and takes a swig from the opening at the top. Judging by the way he hiccuped, Barthos realized that Klorwag was having some _buresh_.

"Pick up the pace, boy." Klorwag spoke as he sets his eyes towards the mysterious star and glared at it.

As the sky begins to dim with the haze of gold and purple, the caravan has set up camp just within the training grounds of Banesia. Despite of the barrenness of the surroundings with only the boulders and huge monoliths of stone forming a circle, legend speaks of when the god Vizurath fought a battle in this very land to protect his sister Daluria from the clutches of his evil son, Lodok. The evil son planned to take her aunt as his queen in order to rule _Celestus_, the land of the Four Gods. When the war ended, Lodok was banished to the underworld along with his minions. This was the story that endured eons of change in their land.

The darkness begins to enshroud much of the land, and the caravan banded together in a circle, and right in the middle is a huge bonfire. It was a well-deserved night of revelry, knowing that in a day or two they will arrive in the town of Qurash. Days of warring sides felt like a memory of long ago, and song, and dancing and laughter were abundant as if it were an everyday occurrence. Even the stars shined brighter to commemorate this day and the ghostly face of _Daluria_ looked upon her children with all the blessings she can shower upon them.

Barthos and his wife and child sat next to Klorwag as they clapped at the rhythm of some of the popular dances, while others played their instruments from drums, tambourines, flutes, and eight-stringed-instruments called _simirs_. Food was indeed forthcoming, as well as gallons of _buresh_ to the delight of the old trail master. The flickering tendrils of the flames gave life to the dancers, mesmerizing both young and old and giving the proper respect of the ageless past that happiness is encompassing.

As Barthos was being pulled by Oregana to join the dance, Klorwag, however, was unusually silent. Every now and then, he shifts his sights towards Devil's Peak, checking on the same, unknown star that felt like an ominous being about to strike down with inexplicable force. He knows he should not worry the people, who are rejoicing their long-deserved peace, but history has been a great teacher to him despite of his eccentricities.

The dances came to a stop, and the celebrations simmered to talk and laughter. Most of the caravan riders, mostly women and their children and a few drunken fathers retreated in the safety of their wagons. It was now up to Barthos, Klorwag and a few select men to watch over the encampment throughout the night and exchanged stories to stave away the boredom.

Barthos indeed had a great time, but something has been creeping into his mind lately, especially his thoughts to the master blacksmith. It was cold and foreboding.

"Master," Barthos spoke as Klorwag grunted as an indication that he was listening. "I noticed that you seemed to be sober, and I can't help wondering if it's about that strange star up in Devil's Peak."

Klorwag let out his signature glares towards the sky as if trying to gather his thoughts. Barthos waited patiently for a reply, until Klorwag cleared his throat.

"Do you remember the very first lesson I have taught you?"

It was something unexpected, especially since Klorwag rarely tell his tales unless it was about himself and his years during the earlier War of Tears.

"I have," Barthos answered, "you told me that every time I strike hot iron on the forge, I take away every impurities, that even the tiniest of blades are the strongest and the deadliest of them all."

Klorwag nodded solemnly, "in over a hundred years, that very same hammer strikes down upon my body, casting away the very sins that I may have committed, which in time I have strengthened my resolve and my dedication as a being who can teach the future generation.

"I did not teach you to become a blacksmith because it is a tool neither skill or art. What I am about to teach you is that are you prepared to face the hot forges of hellish days of trials, and the mallet that can strike down and shatter your spirit."

"But we are not made of metal." Barthos said.

"All the more we have to be prepared because we are only flesh and blood. As indomitable as the spirit we have, only our deep sense of longing or selfish desires that we are not malleable. How do you expect to go through life knowing what lies ahead and fear it?"

A deep sense of dread was flooding inside Barthos' gut and twisting it in knots when he heard Klorwag speak this way. In his early years as an apprentice, Klorwag was never the type to talk about words that may seem to be of an incoming doom.

Klorwag fell silent as he casts his eyes towards the white moon, now setting towards the southern horizon.

"I should get some rest now." Klorwag said as he rose from his sitting position and heads towards his wagon.

"Master," Barthos blurted out, "about what you said, I do not know how I should prepare for it."

Klorwag stopped on his feet. Without turning to face Barthos he answered, "All those years of teaching you seemed to give you doubts. A blacksmith can control the force of the mallet at every swing, and the metal only has to take every strike in order to become a weapon of choice. But in life it is the both sides of a single coin-- we have to remain strong no matter how strong the force of fate may strike upon us, and then we determine what our future lies."

Barthos furrowed his eyebrows at the old man as he shuffled back to his wagon. Just before he could sit back and preparing himself to pass the hours away, Klorwag returned holding an object wrapped around a piece of brown cloth.

"I forgot, please keep this safe for me. You may even take a look at it." Klorwag said that Barthos reached his massive hand open to receive it. Despite of its size, the object felt heavy in his hands.

"What is it?" Barthos asked as he unwrapped the object, which was a dagger inside its scabbard.

"That, my boy, is the key to an uncertain future."

As the night continued to pass by, Barthos examined the dagger in his possession. Judging by the shape of the dagger as well as its grip, the design is quite old, probably even older than Klorwag. A single gem is embedded on the grip that resembled a crystal tear. Just as he was about to return the dagger in its scabbard, Barthos gasped and immediately stood on his feet when he heard the hulking beasts of burden beginning to stir and groan in a frenzied panic. The others members of the caravan slowly stirred and began to get their respective animals before they run away. A sinking feeling was developing in his stomach, knowing that it was an indication that something terrible is about to happen as he sprinted to the back of his wagon and pulled out his weapon; an oversized battleaxe.

"Everyone, stay calm," Barthos announced, as everyone was surprised to see Barthos with a weapon at a ready. Klorwag along with his companion also stepped up alongside Barthos as he begins to give orders.

"For those who can fight, I implore you to join us in defending the caravan. Women and children will have to move on without us as well as the non-combatants." Then he sets his eyes towards his young companion, "And that includes you too."

"But Klorwag," the young man protested.

"No buts," Klorwag snapped at him, "right now the caravan needs you to lead them to Qurash until everything's settled."

After much deliberation and the travelers gathering what they can to their perspective wagons, they set off northwards. The combatant's orders were to follow the caravan on foot and preparing them for anything that may happen when the ground where they stood begins to shake. The wives and especially the children cried in fear as the earthquake intensified to the point that the men on foot were thrown off their feet, including Barthos and Klorwag. As they tried to get themselves on their feet, a bright shine casts its glow upon a caravan as if the sun has risen so quickly that Klorwag sets his sights towards Devil's Peak. His predictions became reality as a blazing ball of fire was headed towards the caravan.

Barthos also sets his sights towards the fireball when Oregana jumped off the wagon carrying their child in her arms towards her husband.

"Barthos!" Oregana cried as well as the infant Drake.

Dropping his weapon, Barthos also ran towards Oregana and Drake and everyone else began to abandon their wagons to meet their husbands and an unknown fate. The fireball collided on the ground, causing a shock wave so immense that the monolith stones were shattered. A bright reddish glow encircled the caravan that scorched everything.

Barthos could only watch as the fires engulfed over Oregana, kneeling to protect their child in exchange for her life. Words of safety and for her life to be spared were directed towards the white moon that it felt that they were no longer his as the tears gushes out from his eyes.

What seemed to be like eternity, Barthos felt like he was drifting away; possibly felt his soul being sent to paradise. As the seconds pass, visions of fire and chaos was slowly drilling forcefully into his memories. The pained visage of his wife as she was consumed by the fire, the wail of his infant son smothered by the silence that may be his upon death. Somehow, everything that he believed about death seems to conflict.

He was not supposed to remember it, in fact, the memory is still fresh in his mind.

He slowly opened his eyes, and it was pitch black. The seconds that seem to pass through him was slowly bringing back his senses, which he begins to feel pain and numbness somewhere in his body. Heat, he could almost remember it, was still evident just about everywhere. Allowing more time for his eyes to come to focus, the pitch blackness were slowly being riddled with white dots as if hundreds of needles were punching through the darkened sky and light was shimmering behind it.

The stars are in clear view.

He slowly got up, ignoring the fiery pain flaring all over his body that he nearly buckled over. Kneeling on all fours, he searched his surroundings, which is nothing more terrifying than being banished to the underworld as dozens of charred bodies lay in disarray. Wagons that were full of people were reduced to its skeletal remains of ironwood.

Oregana, Drake. Those were the first words that came to him, but he did not need to search far as his eyes widened in horror.

A huge form that appears humanoid sat in its place, the upper part of the body charred. He crawled towards what seemed to be the remains of Oregana, wanting to curse, cry, die, when everything in his life felt was slowly to becoming meaningless. He hovered a quivering hand on her back, he was about to prepare to meet her in paradise until a cry broke the stillness.

There may be hope.

He slowly turned her over on her back, as gently and lovingly when he first met her being imprisoned what seemed to be a few years ago in the enemy's prisoner camp. She did not deserve her fate when she volunteered to be a nurse in the front lines. He winced at the sickening crunch of what may be the bones that became brittle in the heat, and the wail of Drake became more evident, flailing his tiny arms in complete helplessness and possibly hunger. He broke out in tears as he slowly pried him off his wife's huge arms and into his as the child begins to simmer down a bit, probably remembering the smell of his father.

"You're safe, you're safe." Barthos groaned tearfully as he brushed his bearded chin upon his child's forehead. The hammer of fate has struck on Barthos and his child, and thus the wheels of the unknown future begins to turn.


End file.
